


Erlebnis und Umwelt

by TunaFey (NinaFey)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fluff, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinaFey/pseuds/TunaFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many bonds in natural world connecting organisms to one another. Those that exist in deeper and invisible worlds are the strongest ones. Set throughout season 9- unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erlebnis und Umwelt

Today was a Tuesday, she’d have twenty minutes for lunch and a teaching autopsy in the afternoon. Scully would go home smelling of disinfectant and the awful feeling that came with a less than interesting routine.  She thought about this on the way to Quantico and as she walked to her secluded office. Not much consideration was given to the placement of it, it was easy to tell. The shelves were stacked with teaching specimens and a small desk in the middle of the room. Some pipes were exposed and the lighting wasn’t the greatest. It made walking into her office all the more difficult, the smell of rust and settled dust made a pang of nostalgia hit her every time she unlocked her door. It was just like the basement office, it smelled like the rusty file cabinets containing yellowed x-files and that spot in Mulder’s desk where his coffee had spilled once or one hundred times.

 

Scully often labelled herself a masochist, because just for a few seconds she let her mind trick her into believing that she’d open the door to find Mulder with his slides and a new theory or new take on an old theory. A big part of her wished she could live in those precious seconds in which this office in Quantico felt so much like the basement at the Hoover building. But then the sight of labelled jars and a solitary desk ruined the illusion. Lately she was finding it harder to snap out of her indulgences, it was a normal reaction, she knew that. Scully had successfully dissected and analyzed the ways in which she coped with Mulder’s absence, God knows she had plenty of time to quantify her moods and behaviours for the past two years.

 

But this was different, it was a melancholy that should have never existed and she resented the world for giving it to her;  for tearing them apart again.  She wore it well, she thought, or at least hid it well. Her expression remained neutral when explaining reliability of several tests in a lecture hall or examining the bruises on a corpse. Some even say she wore her pain with dignity, she would see it in her mother’s eyes whenever she watched her holding her son. “You were always the strong one, Dana”  her mother told her once as she held her cancer-battered daughter, and it was a sentence she had almost taken up as a mantra. An unhealthy mantra, Reyes would say, later reminding her she’d always be there if she needed to talk. Monica would probably add “Dana” at the end of that sentence too, making it sound softer.

 

Her thoughts lingered in that unimportant detail, her name. She never thought much of it, growing up and hearing it in full meant trouble, she’d heard it fall out of her drunk roommate’s mouth whenever she thanked her for getting the door for her. At the FBI “Dana” was forgotten in favour of the less personal “Scully” . None of those uses ever seemed special, not even when it was written with frosting on her birthday cakes. It wasn’t until Mulder had taken to calling her Dana when they were alone when it began to feel like something more. It felt like a secret word, one that they had managed to create themselves. She remembered the first time he said it, his smile was palpable against hers right after he complained her feet felt frozen. Her pulse could be felt all over body as she read her name in his emails, and it raced even faster as she wished he were really there with her.

 

Today she was lucky, her nostalgic trance had sustained her through her routine, Mulder would probably leap and argue for the bending of time. Yes, he would. At this point, Scully would too; she blinked and suddenly William was in her arms, his hands touching her face with all the grace an infant could muster. Sometimes she’d look at her son and get a feeling of jamais vu, as if she were seeing him for the first time. Scully examined William’s features with all the scientific rigour she had in her, reaching the logical and growingly obvious conclusion that only his eyes and coloring belonged to her, the rest was clearly belonged to his father. Every night toes and fingers were counted in basin and kisses were planted on head that would soon hold darker hairs. Tonight it was confirmed yet again that William Scully did in fact posses ten toes and ten fingers and she managed to get a few coos out of him over a repertoire of 70s songs.

 

Mother and son had a new habit, she’d tell him tales of Mulder and he’d look as if he understood her words. Maybe it was the cadence of her voice or how her words would come in whispers, as if she were sharing the secrets of the universe with him, but William remained attentive until sleep found him. It broke and mended her heart that his lips curled in the same way Mulder’s did when he dreamed.  Whatever he was seeing in his dreams, Scully wanted it too if it gave her the same peace William seemed to be enjoying.

 

In addition to envying her infant son’s tranquil sleep, Scully had a hypothesis that if she thought about Mulder long enough before sleep found her, then he’d suddenly materialize in her dreams. So far, it had been proven wrong every single night; only a dark emptiness manifested itself. That void was better than the flashes of him captured and tortured she got when he was taken, but maybe tonight will finally be the night her hypothesis was correct.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the warmth that woke her, or so she thought. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact it was welcomed, like the smell of fresh coffee in the morning. Scully glanced out her window and was surprised to find it still dark outside. Her alarm clock was no help in solving the mystery, it simply flashed “12:00” over and over again. She pulled off her covers and sighed somewhat contently, uncertain why. Then she heard it clearly, it was unmistakable.

 

“You ain’t nothing but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time. You ain’t nothing but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time. Well you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine.” Mulder was trying his hardest to keep the melody but his voice still preserved that distinct monotone of his. “Not that this a personal reflection on you, buddy. You ain’t a hound dog, are ya?” Scully heard William cooing in response to his father’s question. She lept out of bed without an additional thought. There he was, in his boxers, rocking William in his arms. She’d done it, Scully thought, she had managed to materialize him into her dreams.

 

He felt her eyes on him, gazing at him incredulously. Mulder’s lips bore a smile that indicated he had been expecting her. “Hey” he said taking all of her in. Her hair  had gotten longer and she was wearing one of his old t-shirts over silk pajama bottoms. It looked ridiculous on her but he couldn’t possibly conjure up a lovelier image than this. Scully with her long ruffled hair and looking at him as she did when she had brought him back to life. Mulder knew it must have been the way Isis gazed upon Osiris after putting him back together. “Thought I’d give Will here a music lesson seeing how he was up and all. If we don’t start him early on Elvis he will be of the heavy metal persuasion. And really Scully, what type of life is that?”

 

“God, Mulder.” She hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. Scully had to congratulate herself on the amount of detail her mind had managed to project onto her dream. He even had pillow hair and about a week’s worth of facial hair for goodness sake. “I wouldn’t worry, William mostly hears the Eagles from me. Maybe some Billie Holiday from my mom.” Scully was playing along, she’d spent all her nights hoping this would happen and she wasn’t about to squander it trying to make sense of it. At least not now, not while Mulder was still here with her holding their son. That’s when the change in decor stroke her, his beaten up couch was in her living room and his worn out Ursula Le Guin’s on the coffee table right next to her uncompleted Sunday crossword. She knew it to be impossible, but Scully could swear there was a hint of his natural musk in air floating around with the scent of her night cream.

 

“If that’s the case then let’s hope he doesn’t go breaking too many hearts.” He walked over to her because he couldn’t keep up the casual banter for much longer. Mulder lowered himself awkwardly and kissed her. With her lips moving in response to his the universe was beginning to make sense again. Fuck knows that’s all he ever thought about in motel rooms and in moving trains. With their son pressed against their chests and their breaths being exchanged he could pretend that the universe hadn’t torn them apart. Feeling the softness of her hair on his cheeks and her hands on his forearms he could forget about the cosmic joke being played on them.

 

“I’ve missed you both so much” He told her after the broke apart with his voice collapsing over the words.  

 

She nodded and could barely manage to say “We have too.” as she wiped her tears with as much modesty as she could gather. This is the way it was meant to be, Scully thought to herself. Mulder singing Elvis songs to a sleepless William in the early morning. With sunflower seeds scattered all over the place and his muddy shoes by the door. Before she went too deep in describing the normative situation their son interrupted by grabbing a fistful of her hair with what could be described as a triumphant laugh. It spread to both of his parents making Scully forget it was nothing but a dream and Mulder let go of his resentment against the cosmos.

 

Time didn’t seem to apply here and God was Scully ecstatic. Seconds felt as long as hours, her fingers were gladly reclaiming every inch of his skin. The warmth of his hand on her back seemed like it could last forever. Maybe she could name this scientific or magical phenomenon after him. She could feel the vibrations of his voice in her own chest; Scully even led him into a subject that would have him monologuing just so that she could feel them. William seemed to be captivated by the same spell, as he lay awake but still on Mulder’s chest. Making her wonder if he understood a word of his father’s theories on ghosts and ghouls.

 

Mulder considered his luck lying in bed Scully and their son, he’d been ranting about God knows what for who knows how long. The truth was, he just couldn’t believe he was exactly where he had wanted to be for so many months. He thought about the world and life outside of this and could only conclude that it simply did not exist. But even if it did, Mulder knew he’d burn it all down to preserve this. All the answers he had desperately sought his entire life seemed to be contained within the confines of their bed. It seemed so clear now and he felt like a fool for ever looking at the stars in search of the truth. Silence fell on them briefly and Scully reached to touch his face and then place her hand on William’s back.

 

“It’s funny to think he’s made up of some of the same things as fire, isn’t it?” Scully said quietly. “That a few less chromosomes would have made him a lion and a few more a wolf. Yet here he is, all wide-eyed and in a baseball onesie.” If anybody could see them right now they would have been confused for knot because the way she had intertwined her legs with his and how Mulder’s left arm disappeared under her shirt.

 

“We’re all connected somehow, aren’t we? Through carbon, six degrees or through some deeper and less visible bonds.” He rubbed his hand up her back wanting to burn the sensation of her skin onto his memory to revisit every day. “This is how we’re here right now.”

 

“Everything is possible in dreams.” A yawn escaped her as she watched William and Mulder follow suit.

 

“Only this isn’t a dream, Dana.” He swore he could feel electricity going down her back when she heard her name. “Not exactly, anyway.”

 

Scully laughed; she found herself eagerly anticipating her rebuttal to his theory. “Then what is it, Mulder? A psychic link of sorts?”

 

“ Maybe. Maybe it was just a matter of finding the right frequency. Well, whatever it is, it’s ending soon given how we’re all suddenly drifting off into sleep.” Mulder couldn’t figure out how he knew this, but it was the only logical conclusion he could jump to.

 

“What? No. It’s too soon, Mulder. No.” There were traces of panic in her voice but at this precise moment Scully didn’t care. She wanted to hold on to this fantasy, dream or whatever it was for as long as she could. It wasn’t fair to have found him again just to lose him, Scully thought pressing her body tighter against his.

 

“We’ll come back here, I promise. I have a feeling our little hound dog here will see to that.” He inclined his head toward William. “Trust me, Dana.” Even if conviction wrapped itself around his voice he couldn’t help the wetness of his eyes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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